The Orphan: Book III
by SpiderLily
Summary: Warning: Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban. Why? To kill Harry Potter, obviously. But then why is he attacking the Gryffindor common room? And who is Blaise's strange dog, Grim? We're about to find out. AU Third Year FemBlaise
1. Nightmares at Hestia's House

**The Orphan: Book Three  
****Chapter One: Nightmares at Hestia's House**

* * *

"Well?" Blaise asked, twirling around in front of the mirror where the two dressing rooms came together. "How do I look?"

Harry looked Blaise over, taking in the black dress that zipped up in the front and ended in a pink and gray plaid skirt about halfway below her thigh. A pair of black and white high-top converse that were currently tapping onto the thin carpet in impatience accented it.

"Well?" Blaise questioned again, hands on her hips in annoyance.

"Um . . ." At Blaise's glare, Harry hurriedly continued. "It—uh—looks good on you."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"And you're not just saying that so you can get out of here?"

Harry's eyes narrowed and he sighed angrily. "No, I'm not. It looks good on you."

"It only looks _good_ on me?"

"The dress looks _amazing_ on you, Blaise."

Blaise immediately perked up and smiled at his reflection in the mirror. "Okay, then."

Blaise disappeared back into the dressing room, leaving Harry standing outside with a dumbfounded look on his face. He desperately looked towards Heaven with a woeful, 'why me?' expression.

"Another dress Blaise was asking your opinion about?" Hestia said as she made her way over to him with a stack of clothes in her hands.

"Yes," the boy muttered glumly.

"Hey, Harry, don't worry about it. This will all be over before you know it. Now go try these on." Hestia shoved the pile into his hands and subsequently shoved him into a dressing room.

Harry groaned.

"Hurry up in there! We don't have all day, you know!

Hestia was rewarded with a series of sharp thumps that sounded like a head banging into a wall repeatedly.

THERE WAS ONLY SO MUCH OF THIS HE COULD STAND!

Harry was sick and tired of spending his days in high-priced clothing stores throughout London.

Though he had to admit that the range of fashions Muggles had was _amazing_.

But now they were finally through. It was around mid-July and Harry and Blaise had been staying at Hestia's house for only half a month, yet it had seemed like much longer. In this short space of time, they had managed to get acquainted with each other quite well, to the point that they were sharing prank ideas and trying to help Harry's and Blaise's bad fashion sense with some new clothes.

Harry cringed. He really didn't want to think about clothes right now. . . .

"Hurry up, already, you prat!"

**oOoOo**

Blaise scrutinized the stack of cards in her hands, before looking above the cards at her friend, who had on his best poker face.

Blaise glanced at her cards again. If she had had an ace, or even a jack, she might have had a chance of winning, but _no_—she was stuck with two fives and an eight of Wands.

Sighing, she laid down the eight of Wands.

—And the stack of cards subsequently blew up in her face.

"Yes! I _won_!" Harry shouted, doing a strange-looking victory dance that reminded Blaise of an Irish jig.

Hestia walked into the room with a plate of freshly baked chocolate-chip cookies, shaking her head at the Slytherins' antics.

"Don't tell me you two are playing Exploding Snap again? There are only so many times you can—" Hestia suddenly stopped speaking and erupted into giggles. If only Blaise knew. . . .

Harry saw where Hestia's eyes were looking and followed their gaze—straight to Blaise's eyebrows. He then burst out into laughter, falling out of his seat and onto the off-white shag rug covering the floor.

Blaise's eyes narrowed, and then she ran into the bathroom to look in the mirror. She could see that her entire face was lightly coated with ashes, but where her eyebrows had been . . . there was nothing left.

"YOU _SINGED_ MY EYEBROWS OFF!"

Blaise came charging back into the family room, rage in her eyes and murder on her mind.

Harry ran.

An hour and a half later, Blaise still hadn't found Harry's hiding place.

The next morning, when Hestia walked to Harry and Blaise's room to wake them up for the new day, she found only Blaise in her bed. It was only after waking the girl up that she realized Blaise had never found wherever it was that Harry was hiding, so she set off looking for cubbyholes.

The first place she checked was the bathroom—but she found nothing. The next place she checked was her own room. He wasn't in the living room or the dining room, and the only place left to check was the foyer.

When she finally found the idiotic boy, he was still snoring inside a cupboard underneath the sink in the rarely used powder room by the foyer.

But by this time, she had had time to get an ice-cold bottle of water in hand so she could very easily wake him up. . . .

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! IT BURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRNS!"

**oOoOo**

A half hour later, Hestia was sitting calmly at the dining room table, Blaise still in her pajamas and Harry fresh out of a very warm shower that had probably used up all of her hot water. This might explain why Blaise had decided to wait before she decided to take a shower, actually. . . .

Hestia took a dainty bite of a biscuit.

Blaise shoved a huge bite of scrambled eggs into her mouth.

Harry roughly tore a chunk of bacon with his teeth, chewing and glaring at the world in general.

Blaise giggled.

"Shut—up."

"I didn't say anything."

"Yes, you did. '_Hehehe_' is a word."

"No, it's not. It's called _laughing_, idiot."

"Yes, it—"

"Oh, just shut up! Both of you!" Hestia interrupted, knife tapping her fork in agitation.

"Sorry," the two Slytherin-esque teens chorused.

Hestia whisked the empty breakfast plates away with a flick of her wand, grinning inwardly when Harry and Blaise groaned.

"No, you're done eating. Go get ready to go."

"Where are we going now?"

"Not more shopping! Please, no more shopping!"

"We're going to get your school supplies. If you had been paying any attention, you would have noticed your letters sitting innocently on the table before you."

The Slytherins had disappeared before she finished the sentence.

When they made their reappearance five minutes later, Hestia had received the Daily Prophet from a dangerous-looking horned owl.

"Ooh, anything interesting going on in the wonderful world of wizardry?" Blaise asked brightly, now dressed in decoratively torn jeans and a paint-spattered top.

"Actually, yes," Hestia admitted from where her eyes were practically glued to the front-page headlines:

**_SIRIUS BLACK ESCAPED FROM AZKABAN!_**

"Um . . . Tia?" Harry asked hesitantly, as the older witch seemed to be ready to have an aneurism.

"What?" snapped Hestia.

"Who's Sirius Black?"

Hestia's grip tightened on the parchment newsprint, and she looked at him incredulously over the bold headlines. "You mean to tell me that you have absolutely _no idea_ who Sirius Black is?"

"Should I?"

Hestia sighed and set down the paper before rolling it back up. "I'll tell you about it later. For now, we need to get going! I'm assuming you _have_ traveled by Floo before?"

"Who hasn't?" Blaise asked skeptically.

"You'd be surprised."

**oOoOo**

Diagon Alley was bustling with shoppers in brightly colored robes of all shapes and sizes, but there was something disturbingly different from the previous times they had been. People kept glancing over their shoulders and tugging children closer to their sides; WANTED: SIRIUS BLACK signs hung in shop windows, and everywhere you looked, grotesque images of sunken cheeks and maniacal laughter looked down upon you.

Hestia held onto Blaise with one hand and Harry with the other as they walked to Gringotts, which seemed eerily quiet when compared to the bustling alley.

Hestia requested to have a certain amount of money brought up from their vaults, which happened much more quickly than going down to retrieve it themselves.

"Quick and efficient," Hestia commented when Harry mentioned he didn't know it was possible to have the goblins get money from you own vault in a matter of seconds.

They exited the bank and stood among the crowds for a few moments before Blaise shouted, "Where to now?"

"Robes!" Hestia said so that the Slytherins could hear. "I swear Harry's have shrunk. . . ." she said more quietly.

Madam Malkin had Harry fitted for new robes in seemingly no time at all while Blaise rifled through their selection of fabrics and Hestia tapped her foot impatiently before leaving to get ice cream, with strict orders to Blaise for the teens to meet her at Fortesque's as soon as Harry had purchased his robes and not a second later.

Blaise then dragged Harry to the ice cream parlor, where she was sure a double mint, dark chocolate chip sundae was waiting for her.

Sure enough, Hestia was sitting under one of the brightly colored umbrellas outside of Florean Fortesque's Ice Cream Parlor. In front of one of the empty seats was Blaise's much anticipated and soon-to-be treasured double mint, dark chocolate chip sundae.

Blaise sat down heavily, giving a sigh before digging into her sundae. "I love you, Hestia," she said with a scary amount of reverence.

Harry collapsed beside her and didn't waste any time drooling over his own sundae (dark chocolate fudge with extra pecans and caramel) before steadily beginning to devour it.

Hestia grinned in amusement. "I love you, too, Blaise."

There was no answer as the two Slytherins inhaled ice cream instead.

A few moments later, when Harry and Blaise had realized no one was going to steal their sundaes, Hestia continued, "I think we should get you new trunks, with expanding compartments, before we go to get your books. You're going to need extra space now that you have more classes.

"Sure thing, Tia," Blaise said cheerily after licking her fingers clean.

After a quick goodbye to Mr. Fortesque and a short trip to a store that supplied magically expanding trunks for school students, they were standing among the tall bookcases that made up the décor of Flourish and Blotts, looking for copies of their schoolbooks.

The trio had easily found Intermediate Transfiguration, Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3, Unfogging the Future, and Ancient Runes Made Easy, along with various Egyptian, Roman, and Russian rune dictionaries. Basic Healing and Forgotten Arts: The Ancient Craft were a bit harder to locate, along with the books Harry needed for Arithmancy. Eventually, however, they had to ask the store clerk about the Monster Book of Monsters.

"T-t-two c-copies?" he had stuttered when they asked him about it. At their nods, he simply sighed and put on a pair of ragged dragon-hide gloves.

Blaise paled. "Um, what do you need those for?"

Instead of answering, the clerk went up to a cage at the front of the store that was filled nearly to the brim of vicious looking books, two of which were busily tearing the pages out of a third.

The clerk reached in with a cane, poking the monster books apart and scaring them in the process. He quickly reached in, grabbed two, and closed the cage again. As soon as the little metal door clicked closed, the books started attacking again.

The clerk (who's name was Brian, Blaise noticed after looking at the nametag) strapped a belt around each of the books and added them to their list of charges.

"I'll give you the belts free of charge," the Asian man said with a cheeky grin. "You'll need something to keep them from biting. Have a good day!"

They had barely exited the bookshop when Harry was accosted by a big, black mass of fur.

"Oh, isn't he just the most adorable puppy you've ever seen?" Blaise squealed, reaching down to pet the dog that was joyfully licking Harry's face.

"I wouldn't call him a puppy," Hestia muttered sardonically as Harry freed himself from the huge contraption.

"Tia, can we keep him?" Blaise questioned, pouting. The dog was now licking her own face and, if dogs could grin, smiling happily.

"What?" Hestia asked. That was one of the last things she expected. The poor dog was a stray! It probably had fleas and its fur more than likely infested with barwiggles!

"He can stay outside, and I'll feed him three times a day! I'll even groom him before we go to Hogwarts! _Please_?"

"I'll help her, Tia!" Harry piped in.

Hestia opened her mouth to refuse, but then she thought about it. The dog would be Blaise and Harry's responsibility, and she wouldn't have to fool with it. The thing might be fun to have around, too, after they gave him flea and barwiggle potion.

Hestia sighed. "Okay."

"Yay! He'll be good, I swear! And I'll name him Grim, which is a complete misnomer, but I've always wanted to name something a misnomer, and—"

"Alright, Blaise, I get the idea. But first, we have to make a trip to the apothecary for your potions ingredients and make a quick stop at the magical menagerie. Then we'll eat dinner at the Leaky Cauldron, okay?"

"Okay!"

**oOoOo**

Later that day, after eating the promised dinner at the Leaky, Harry was poking around with the bound Monster Book of Monsters, trying to find a way to make it calm down, and Blaise was leafing through their Forgotten Arts textbook.

"Why did I _ever_ agree to take Forgotten Arts? This stuff is so difficult!" growled Blaise, flipping toward a section near the end of the book.

"That may be because you skipped the beginning, and that's what you'll be starting with," Hestia pitched in.

"Oh. . . ."

"Aha! I think I found it!"

Hestia and Blaise turned to Harry, who was proudly holding up a non-struggling, unbound copy of the Monster Book of Monsters.

"Now I can finally—" Harry was cutoff mid-sentence when the book clamped its jaws around his hand, forcing out a scream.

Hestia and Blaise giggled while trying to force it off.

**oOoOo**

Harry and Blaise were shaken awake the next morning by Hestia at the very early time of six o'clock. For the first time in their entire stay at her house, Hestia was completely serious.

When the Slytherins entered the kitchen half an hour later, Hestia was sitting at the table drinking a steaming mug of coffee.

"There's something I have to tell you, and I think both of you deserve to know," Hestia began. "Please don't rush me and please don't interrupt; this story is rather personal.

"When I was at Hogwarts, Lily Evans was my best friend. Yes, that was your mother, Harry," she added at the questioning look on Harry's face. "That was the reason why Dumbledore asked me to take you in for the summer.

"We were part of the reason why some of the Marauder's pranks were never carried out, and before you ask, the Marauders were the four Gryffindor boys in our year. James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. James was, of course, Harry's father.

"James and Sirius were best friends, and eventually they formed a common bond with Remus and Peter. You see, Remus had a secret. He was a werewolf.

"Now, Remus wasn't your ordinary werewolf; he was kind, sincere, and a very loyal friend. Luckily, James, Sirius, and Peter were, too. They became Animagi, which means they learned how to transform their physical body into that of an animal. I never learned their forms, but they had nicknames—James was Prongs, Sirius was Padfoot, Remus was Moony, and Peter was Wormtail.

"When we were fifth years, James developed a crush on Lily. She hated him because he had a big head, but he eventually evened out his ego and she agreed to go out with him. They got married practically straight out of seventh year; Lily became pregnant soon after and James named Sirius your godfather. That was when Dumbledore gravely informed them that they had to go into hiding.

"I told Lily before they went under the Fidelius Charm—a way of keeping their presence in a certain place a secret that's revealed only to the Secret-Keeper—that they should not make Sirius their Secret-Keeper. I told her it should have been Remus, but they believed Remus to be the traitor that informed You-Know-Who of Lily's pregnancy. Poor Remus was left just as friendless as he had been before he started at Hogwarts, and he left for the Americas soon after.

"After You-Know-Who's attack on your house at Godric's Hollow, Peter went to Sirius's flat to find him gone. He eventually cornered him and Sirius was angered. He killed Pettigrew and thirteen Muggles with one curse. All that was left of Peter was a finger.

"And that, Harry, is why you were orphaned that night and left with that scar on your forehead. Sirius Black was the one who betrayed your parents to the Dark Lord. He is the reason they are dead."

**oOoOo**

_Zabini Manor was not very large, but it wasn't overly small either. The room she was in was decorated in whites and silvers—neutral colors. The bed was done in holly, with black velvet hangings. The windows had black velvet hangings as well, but they were open, letting sunlight pour into the room._

_A woman was there, with flowing auburn hair and a pale face. Her lips were full; her nose slightly too long. Her eyebrows were dark on her fair skin, arching high on her forehead. But what caught her attention the most was a bassinet draped in white silk. _

_Inside was a baby, barely two years old, with curly auburn hair and big, bright, blue eyes. She was sound asleep, but the woman—her mother—was crying silently as she sang:_

_"Hush, little baby, don't shed a tear  
__Mother is here, now there's nothing to fear."_

_The fireplace on the other side of the bed glowed green for a moment before a woman with white-blonde hair that fell down to her waist stepped out, obviously trying not to interrupt the moment between mother and daughter._

_"Narcissa," the woman with auburn hair whispered, not turning away from her child._

_"Celaeno," the other woman whispered back._

_Celaeno turned away from the bassinet, piercing hazel eyes gazing at her sister as Narcissa's own blue ones stared back. Blue eyes that little Blaise had somehow gotten. . . ._

_"I'm scared, Cissa," Celaeno said quietly, tears now falling heavily._

_"I know, Aen."_

_"You will watch her for me? I know you have Draco, but I wouldn't trust her with anyone else—let alone Bella—and I can't find 'Dromeda—" Celaeno asked desperately._

_"Of course I will."_

_"You know of my visions, Cissa, I know you do. Today is the day. I have written a letter—Blaise will grow up away from the wizarding world, from her home—I won't have her being a prejudice pureblood like us."_

_Narcissa nodded, taking the letter her sister handed her._

_"Take care of her for me, Cissa," Celaeno whispered to her sister, taking the baby from the bassinet and handing her to Narcissa. Blaise was still sound asleep._

_"I give you my word, Aen."_

_The scene was drifting out of focus, the room blurring as the flames turned green again and Celaeno went back to staring into the bassinet, now empty._

_"I'll miss you, Blaise."_


	2. The Hogwarts Express

_Authoress' Ranting: Hey, I'm actually updating! I know, it's surprising, yes? _

_I had a series of deadlines created for this story that I had deemed reasonable, but my muse decided that it was going to go on an extended vacation to Malaysia these past few months, and has not sent any postcards while she was gone. I have decided to just write and let inspiration come to me as I go. It didn't work too well in the beginning, but then I had a nice talk with my beta and I think I have things sorted out now._

_I intended to update on my birthday, but it didn't work out that way. Either way, Happy Memorial Day (May 26__th__)! I am now fifteen!_

* * *

**The Orphan: Book Three  
****Chapter Two: The Hogwarts Express**

* * *

Hestia woke on the last day of August to the pleasant, quaint sound of incessant splashing. In fact, if it hadn't been so infuriatingly loud, she may not have woken at the ungodly hour of six o'clock in the morning.

But it was that infuriatingly loud, and she didn't know what it was.

Hestia climbed from her bed and pulled on her dressing gown and slippers before padding down the hall.

It was then that she heard giggling. The soprano-high tinkling of a young girl and the crackling laughter of a young male whose voice had just become deep.

Blaise and Harry.

What in the name of the Lord were they _up to now_?

Hestia pushed open the door to the bathroom, wincing as it creaked and the three occupants inside turned to stare at her.

Oh, no.

Harry and Blaise were sitting on the tile by her antique bathtub, each holding a sponge and a bucket while a motionless Grim was actually sitting _inside_ the tub, dripping wet.

"_What_ do you two think you're _doing_?" Hestia screeched.

"Eh, well—we're going to Hogwarts tomorrow, so we thought we'd give Grim a bath so that he'd be clean for the ride up to King's Cross. We'll clean it up, I swear, but we were having a bit of trouble with—" Harry continued rambling, not noticing Blaise and Hestia's amusement.

"Harry, you can stop now," Blaise said.

Harry blushed. "Sorry."

"I don't care what you do to that poor dog, but you had better clean up afterward and put his collar back on when you're done." Hestia groaned and massaged the bridge of her nose. "I need coffee."

The older woman exited the bathroom without a backward glance.

**oOoOo**

Harry, Blaise, and Hestia made it to King's Cross with much hassle. Harry and Blaise, being typical procrastinators, had left packing until the very last moment. . . .

"_Have you seen my cauldron? I can't find my cauldron!"_

"_Your cauldron? No. . . . Have you seen my Transfiguration book?"_

"_Tia, have you seen a pair of plaid pajama trousers?"_

"_What about a sock? I'm missing one!"_

"_I can't find my robes!" _

"_My shirts have gone missing!"_

_Off in the distance, the first warning bell for the Hogwart's Express rang._

The three of them ran through the barrier and Hestia helped them pull their trunks up into the train. Harry and Blaise climbed aboard just as the train began pulling out of the station.

"Wow, we made it," Blaise huffed, leaning against the wall of the train as it began picking up speed.

"Yeah, we did." Harry stopped to catch his breath.

"Well, come on—might as well find a compartment while there's still empty ones."

"I doubt there are any that are empty."

They eventually found a compartment at the very end of the train, but there was already someone sitting inside. He seemed to be sound asleep, his head pressed against the glass of the compartment window.

"There's nowhere else to sit, Harry."

Harry shrugged. "This works for me."

The two Slytherins entered the compartment warily, almost afraid to wake the other occupant. They stashed their trunks in the overhead racks and sat down opposite the man.

He didn't seem to be very well-off—quite the opposite, in fact. His robes were faded and patched multiple times. His tawny hair looked well cared for, but was obviously in need of a trim. There were dark circles under his eyes and the trunk above his head was worn and dented.

"What d'you reckon his name is?" asked Blaise.

"R. J. Lupin."

"Well, aren't you a little know-it-all?"

"It's written on the trunk."

"Oh." Blaise glanced at the trunk and noticed the inscription.

"I wonder what the 'R' stands for. . . ."

"No idea."

Blaise stretched out her arm in order to shake the man awake.

"Blaise, don't wake him up!"

"Oops. . . ." Too late.

R. J. Lupin was opening his eyes, blinking rapidly to get rid of the bleariness and revealing honey-colored irises in the process. When he noticed them, he jumped back in shock.

"Do I know you?"

He was looking at Harry, but it was Blaise that answered him.

"No, but I can introduce you," she said with a grin. "I'm Blaise Zabini and this is my best friend, Harry Potter."

"I'm pleased to meet you. I'm Remus Lupin."

"Remus is a cool name. I knew the 'R' couldn't stand for a weird name . . . like Ronald." This time the grin was a bit cheeky, as if sharing an inside joke.

Harry snorted at the same time Remus asked, "Ronald?"

"Ronald Weasley," Harry answered. "He's a Gryffindor in our year, and he's absolutely horrible. Prejudiced about everything under the sun."

Remus nodded. "What House are you two in?"

"Slytherin."

"Really?" Remus' eyes widened almost imperceptibly.

"Of course! What other House would the Great Harry and Blaise be in?" Blaise snickered.

Remus had to chuckle. "I was in Gryffindor myself."

Harry looked to be contemplating something as he observed the older man. "Do you have a twin brother?"

". . . No. Why?"

"There's a Roman legend about twin brothers Remus and Romulus that were raised by a pack of wolves," Harry said.

Remus' eyes narrowed imperceptibly. "Hmm. . . . I may want to look into that twin brother thing, just to make sure," he mentioned with a slight upward turn of the lips.

Conversation died out for the time being. Remus passed the time by observing the passing scenery and occasionally reading from a book. Harry and Blaise amused themselves with a raucous game of tic-tac-toe.

Half an hour passed this way. The trolley lady came and went, and the two Slytherins had licorice wand wars and placed bets on who would get the rarer Chocolate Frog card. Remus won after opening a Chocolate Frog with a card of Agrippa inside. Harry and Blaise lost seven Sickles each.

None of them noticed the subtle change in temperature.

But when the window began frosting over and their breaths began to come out in puffs of white, they couldn't ignore it any longer.

Suddenly the train screeched to a halt.

"We c-can't be there yet." Blaise shivered.

"We aren't."

The compartment was quiet for several minutes, but the three occupants heard the rattling outside the door at the same time, and when a skeletal hand began inching the door open, breathing rapidly increased.

Harry was dizzy, and his eyes were getting blurry. All of a sudden, he couldn't remember where he was, but he could feel Blaise's cool skin next to his own, and she didn't seem to be in a better state than he was.

"_No! Not Harry, please, not Harry! Take me instead!"_

"_You can't do this to me! No! You bastard!"_

Harry and Blaise both passed out to the sound of a woman screaming.

**oOoOo**

Harry woke up slowly. As he opened his eyes, he could see Blaise just beginning to sit up beside him, and they both seemed to be laying on the floor. He pushed himself up groggily, seeing a blurry figure in front of him. Harry began searching the floor for his glasses, only to have the mystery person push them into his hands.

"Thanks," he said, and then coughed when his voice came out raspy.

"You're welcome, Harry," Remus said. "Here, both of you—eat this. It will help." He shoved a chunk of chocolate into each of their hands. "I'm going to have a talk with the conductor to see what just happened.

Remus exited the compartment.

"What just happened?" Blaise whispered.

"I have no idea, but there was a woman—she was screaming."

"I heard her, too."

The rest of the ride was spent in silence as the two contemplated the things they heard under the creature's influence. The only thing they noticed was Remus coming back and explaining that the creature had actually been a Dementor, one of the guards of Azkaban.

Harry felt overwhelming pity for Sirius Black.

**oOoOo**

Before they knew it, the train had reached Hogsmeade Station and they were climbing aboard one of the horseless carriages. The ride to the castle passed in minimal silence, the only whispers coming from the group of three Hufflepuff fifth-years that were sitting across from the two Slytherins.

The carriage stopped and they made their way into the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall was standing by the doors and stopped Harry from going in. Blaise glared at her in suspicion.

"I only wish to speak with Mr. Potter about his class schedule, Miss Zabini, so you can stop that incessant glare right this instant!" the professor admonished.

Blaise rolled her eyes, but left Harry with the woman after a muttered, "Geeks. . . ."

"Mr. Potter, if you will follow me. . . ." The Deputy Headmistress led the way to her office nearby the third-floor Transfiguration classroom. She opened the door and allowed Harry to pass through first.

Professor McGonagall's office contained only the necessities. Two chairs facing a desk were located in the center of the room, and bookcases covered most of the walls. Hermione was already seated in one of the chairs, and she gave a tentative smile when she saw Harry.

"Take a seat, Mr. Potter."

Harry did so.

"I have reviewed the lists you turned in stating the classes you wish to take this year, and I must say that I have never had a student here—in my entire teaching career—want to take as many classes as you two do."

Harry and Hermione shared a grin.

Your schedules are nearly identical. You will both be continuing with the core classes: Defense, Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, and Herbology, and you both wish to take Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, Forgotten Arts, Healing, and Ancient Runes. Am I correct?"

The two third years nodded.

"The only problem is that there is no way to fit all of these classes into your schedule. However . . . the Headmaster has talked to a department within the Ministry, and since you are both extremely good students, they are willing to make an exception."

Professor McGonagall slid open a drawer in her desks and took out two black velvet boxes. She opened one.

Inside was a golden pendent, with a circular charm. Inside the first circle was another circle and inside that one another circle. A small hourglass was cradled in the middle.

"This is a Time-Turner, and it does exactly what the name says it does—turns back time. You will use this device to turn back in time to go to each of your classes. As it is, some of your classes will be held at the same time. I expect you to find a secluded area after one class, turn the Time-Turner once, and then discreetly make your way to another class. Am I understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," the two students intoned.

"Good. Now, one turn should take you back exactly one hour, and that's all I expect you to do at a time. Another thing you need to be wary of is seeing yourself. Bad things happen to wizards who meddle with time, and if the past you and the present you collide, it _will not_ be pretty. Make sure you _pay attention_ to where you walk and where you are at certain times of the day. I do not want you running into your past selves."

McGonagall handed one of the cases to Hermione and the other to Harry.

"I want you to keep these on at all times, but remember to keep it hidden—you don't want anybody asking what it is and where you got it. And, good Lord, don't tell any of your friends about it!"

The woman stood up. "Well, come along. I expect the first years have already been Sorted."

The walk back to the Great Hall took nearly two minutes, and the entire time was filled with whispering between Harry and Hermione about their classes and their new tinker toys.

When Harry slid into the empty seat next to Blaise, the girl looked at him in confusion. "Where've you been?"

"I had to talk to McGonagall about my schedule." Leaning in closer, he whispered, "I'll tell you about it later."

"You had better," Blaise whispered back.


	3. Magical Creatures and Forgotten Arts

**The Orphan: Book Three  
****Chapter Three: Magical Creatures and Forgotten Arts**

* * *

The students seemed to be quieter than usual as they filed into the Great Hall for the Sorting and feast an hour later than they usually did. Even Dumbledore, Blaise noticed, seemed more tense and subdued than usual. He seemed to be scanning the Great Hall with an air of complete indifference.

Blaise sat down across from Theo at the Slytherin table and waited (quite impatiently) for the puny first years to file inside and get Sorted. She was hungry, damn it!

A few chuckles broke Blaise from her musings, and she turned to see a group of second years piling onto the bench beside her. The tension from earlier had made her temper even worse than it normally was, so she couldn't really be blamed when she snarled, "Move, freak show, my friend's gonna sit there!"

The second years 'eeped' and moved farther down the bench.

Blaise turned back toward the table only to see Theo smirking at her.

"What?!"

Theo just chuckled.

Just then, the first years came tentatively into the hall, and Blaise's shoulders slumped when she noticed McGonagall wasn't the one leading them, but Flitwick. It was, after all, McGonagall that had taken Harry away, so it made sense that Harry would come back with her, but obviously he was still with her and that Granger girl.

Blaise was dying with curiosity.

"Adamson, Billy!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Azul, Rayla!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Burford, Danielle!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"This is so boring. . . ." Blaise muttered to Theo as the first years were slowly Sorted into their Houses. She was still squirming, wanting desperately to talk to Harry about what had happened on the train, and why he had to see McGonagall.

"Collier, Hayley!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The Sorting slowly came to an end, and by the time "Zackary, Christopher" had been Sorted into Hufflepuff, the side doors that opened to the Great Hall opened and Professor McGonagall came out, followed by Harry and Granger. Blaise nearly started bouncing in her seat.

When Harry slid into the empty seat next to her, Blaise immediately began pestering him with questions, but the most important: "Where have you been?"

"I had to talk to McGonagall about my schedule." Leaning in closer, he whispered, "I'll tell you about it later."

"You had better," Blaise whispered back.

At that moment, the headmaster stood to speak, and the Great Hall silenced immediately.

"Welcome, to another year at Hogwarts! I have quite a few announcements to make, and as one of them is very serious, I thought it best to get it out of the way before you become sleepy and unaware of your surroundings."

Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, "As you will all be fully aware of after their search of the Hogwarts Express earlier this evening, our school is presently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business."

A grim silence descended upon the Great Hall as the meaning of Dumbledore's words sunk in. The slightly subdued but still ever-so-cheerful atmosphere that always accompanied the opening feast had evaporated, and in its place was a thick shroud of terror that hung over many of the students, each practically frozen in their seats.

Squeak. THUMP!

The terrified first year toppled from his seat and crashed onto the floor in a dead faint, the sound resounding like a clap of thunder in the silent hall.

It was a testament to the tense atmosphere that now hung over the students that not even a single Slytherin burst out into laughter at such a scene.

Harry observed the scene with a burning curiosity but also with a cold pit of dread that nestled deeply in his chest, turning his stomach into lead.

Harry leaned forward to Theo and said quietly, "What are Dementors?"

Theo's eyes widened before he leaned forward as well, his voice hissing through the air in a whisper, "They're the guards of Azkaban. Really wicked creatures. They suck the happiness out of a person just by being near them, and if they Kiss you, they take out your soul and you become a living corpse."

Blaise whimpered.

Dumbledore had continued, "They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds, and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises—or even Invisibility Cloaks. Although they are here to make sure Sirius Black does not come near the school, they are not able to distinguish an escaped convict from a frolicking couple.

"On a happier note, I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year.

"First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly agreed to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark arts teacher."

There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic applause. After all, their last Defense professor had been a fraud.

"Look at Snape!" Blaise hissed in Harry's ear.

Professor Snape was currently giving the new Defense professor Snape Death Glare #463: Pure Unadulterated Loathing. It was common knowledge that Snape wanted the Defense post, but Snape Death Glare #463 was quite uncalled for.

"Wow, I thought he only gave me that look," said Harry.

"I know, right?"

"As to our second new appointment," Dumbledore continued as the lukewarm applause died away, "I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures professor, retired in order to spend time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this post in addition to his gamekeeping duties.

"Well, I believe that is everything of importance. Let the feast begin!"

**oOoOo**

Harry and Blaise met late that night in the Common Room, after all the others had headed off to bed.

"It's later," Blaise said.

Harry glanced at her, and then looked back into the dying embers in the fireplace. "Sorry, McGonagall told me not to tell anyone, so I'm completely disobeying orders by telling you this. . . ." Harry reached into his uniform shirt and pulled out . . . a necklace?

"What is it?"

"This is a Time-Turner," Harry explained. "It does exactly what it says it does—turns time. Backwards, to be more precise."

"What does that have to do with your schedule?"

"The school had trouble putting all my classes at different times, so some of my classes are going to be taking place at the same time. Which means I'll need this to go to my lessons."

"Impressive. So I suppose you are also specifically ordered not to do anything other than go to classes with it?"

"Right in one."

"Damn! Do you know how much damage we could do with this! We could play pranks on two people at once! Ooh, we might even be able to get Snape in his private chambers with some sort of jinx. We could prank Filch, and Malfoy, and Weaselbee—WAIT! You could sneak in a few extra hours of sleep with that baby! Gimme!!!"

Blaise reached out crazily and tried to grab the Time-Turner from her friend, but Harry was holding it high above his head so that she could reach it. Blaise glared at him.

"I hate your height." Puberty had caused Harry to gain what must have been an extra three inches in height over the summer, and it irritated Blaise to the extremes.

"McGonagall said not to use it for anything other than class-related purposes, and that is fully what I intend to do." Harry's eyes shifted from the left to the right and back again as he contemplated what he had just said. Actually following the rules? _Yuck_.

Blaise pouted. "You are no fun, Potter. No fun at all."

"But you love me anyway?"

"Yeah, sure."

The two were silent for a while, and then Blaise noticed Harry was brooding, a deep frown on his face as he stared at the ceiling.

Blaise looked at Harry, really looked at him. "Wh-What did you hear when the Dementors came near you?"

"A woman—screaming. I think it was my mother. She kept saying, 'Not Harry! Kill me instead!'" At the end of the sentence, Harry's voice cracked, and Blaise swore she saw tears in his eyes in the dying glow from the fireplace.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry." Blaise wrapped her arms around her friend, and although Harry made no movement to hug her back, she heard a quiet, "Thanks."

"What did you hear? You passed out, too, right?"

"I think I heard my mum, too, but I don't have the slightest idea what she was talking about. She said, 'You can't do this to me,' but I have no idea who she was talking to or even what she was talking about."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

Harry and Blaise spent the next few minutes in silence, simply staring at the faint light emanating from the fireplace. When it had nearly died completely, Blaise stood and offered her hand to Harry. "I believe it's time we go to bed, Mr. Potter."

Blaise seemed to hesitate for a bit, but then she leaned up a bit and placed a quick kiss on Harry's cheek.

"Goodnight."

Blaise bounded up the stairs to the girls' dormitories with a backward glance, leaving Harry stunned below.

**oOoOo**

BEEP BEEP BEEP!!!

Harry's alarm clock buzzed annoyingly in his ear, and he batted at it angrily until he somehow managed to hit the snooze button and the alarm turned off. He had been having a really good dream, dang it! Opening his eyes blearily, he checked to see what time it was.

7:45.

In the morning.

Harry was reading to _kill_.

Just then, something bumped against his chest from under his pajama top. The Time-Turner. An evil grin appeared on Harry's face, and he turned the inner circle of the Time-Turner three times.

Three extra hours of sleep. . . .

Blaise never had to know.

Harry fell back onto the bed, and nearly shrieked at the sight of his sleeping self. Oh, crap, he hadn't prepared for this. Oh, well. Harry went back to sleep.

The next thing Harry knew. . . .

"Rise and shine, dragonfly!" Blaise sang loudly, and extremely off-key, as she entered the Slytherin third-year boys' dorm fully dressed. "I swear, Harry, you could enter the freak show at a circus just because you sleep so much."

"I'll show you a freak show. . . ." Draco Malfoy muttered as he rubbed sleep from his eyes.

"Skip showing it to her; go ahead and enroll her," Theodore Nott, more commonly referred to by his friends as Theo, said as he adjusted his tie. "Harry! Wake up and control your girlfriend!"

"Blaise is past control, my dear Theo. I believe she's past medication as well," Harry said, emerging from his bed fully dressed and looking completely refreshed. "And for your information, I was already awake."

"Well, come on then!" Blaise exclaimed, already bounding down the hall. "It's the first day of classes and I'm ready for breakfast!"

Harry had no choice but to rush after her. "Bye, guys! I'll see you at breakfast!"

Theo shook his head sadly. "That boy is whipped. . . . And he never even denied Blaise was his girlfriend. He always denies Blaise is his girlfriend. . . ."

Theo shook his head in confusion before hurrying after Harry and Blaise.

"Hey, guys, wait on me!" yelled Theo, only to be ignored by the rapidly retreating backs of his friends.

Theo grumbled all the way to the Great Hall.

**oOoOo**

Blaise was happily munching on some toast while simultaneously pouring pumpkin juice and grabbing a few pieces of bacon from the tray in front of her when Professor Snape handed out the class schedules.

"Zabini! Grab the schedule already, you imbecile!"

Blaise jumped in surprise, dropping a piece of bacon on the floor in response. "Sorry, Your Most Royal Jackass," she muttered under her breath as Snape turned to Harry.

"What was that, Zabini?" Snape sneered, glaring down his crooked nose at her.

"Nothing, sir."

"That's what I thought. Potter! Get your schedule, the food will still be there when you turn back around!"

Harry turned around to get his schedule, and Blaise took the opportunity to steal Harry's bacon. Harry turned back to his plate and gaped. His eyes immediately went to Blaise, who was innocently munching on the bacon she had stolen.

"Blaise, the bacon tray is right in front of you."

"So? It was more fun to steal yours."

Harry grumbled and took a few more pieces of bacon.

"So what's on the agenda for today, my main magical man?" Blaise asked as Harry looked over his schedule.

"Well, you and I both seem to have Herbology first, followed by Care of Magical Creatures, lunch, and then a double period of Forgotten Arts."

"No extra classes for you today?"

"Not today."

"Aw, crap, we've got Potions with the Gryffindors—again! Why do we always have to have Potions with those twerps? I get really tired of looking at Weasley. He always manages to ruin something!"

"Yeah, but at least none of his explosions are dangerous, unlike Longbottom's."

"Too true, that." Blaise took a long swig of her pumpkin juice. "Well, let's get rolling, shall we! Herbology starts in five minutes, and I want to get there early just in case she has a selection of multi-colored earmuffs. I don't want to get stuck with pink."

Luckily, Sprout didn't set them the task of repotting Mandrakes, and there wasn't a selection of fluffy pink earmuffs to choose from. Instead, she set them to pruning Snarling Snapdragons.

"Be sure not to snip the main stem, just the protruding ones! And for goodness' sake, don't cut off their heads!"

Harry's Snapdragon seemed quite the opposite of Snarling, and instead let him clip each of the secondary stems with ease, even twisting and turning so that he could get a better angle for the cut.

Blaise's, on the other hand. . . .

"OUCH!!! Damn it, you irritating twig! If you don't stop biting me, I will cut your head off! Yeah, you heard right. . . . Keep biting me and die, you green monstrosity! Stop laughing, Potter!"

Harry continued laughing and petting his purring Snarling Snapdragon.

"I'll sic Grim on you. . . ."

Harry laughed harder.

"Mr. Potter, do you and Miss Zabini have a joke to tell the rest of the class?" Professor Sprout said, giving each of them a stern look.

"No, Professor," they answered simultaneously.

Sprout was still giving them stern looks when the bell rang signaling the end of the period. Blaise sighed in relief, grabbing her bag and disposing her mangled Snarling Snapdragon (which could now only barely work up a hiss) in front of Professor Sprout.

"Cheers, Sprouty!"

**oOoOo**

"Welcome ter Care o' Magical Creatures!" Hagrid bellowed as the students gathered around his hut for their first lesson. "Today I've got somethin' really good ter show yeh, so if yeh could all follow me. . . ."

Hagrid trailed off and began leading them towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Luckily, he stopped before they entered it, as a few of the students in the Gryffindor/Slytherin class were cautious of going into the Forest.

"Today I'm going to show yeh hippogriffs!" With that, Hagrid spread his arms wide and suddenly the class could see a small enclosure holding about five of the creatures, which looked like huge horses with eagle's wings and beaks, but they seemed to have scales. Or at least, a few of them did. A few had a light dusting of feathers, and one even had a leathery coat.

"The one thing yeh need ter know is that hippogriffs are very proud creatures, so be careful what yeh say about 'em. Now, who wants ter volunteer?"

The whole class took one huge step backward, and Hagrid's face fell somewhat. Blaise, with an evil grin on her face, shoved Harry forward.

"Ah, good man, 'Arry!"

Harry turned and glared at Blaise, who only smiled sweetly in return.

Harry flipped her off.

"Now, this hippogriff here is named Buckbeak, and 'Arry, if yeh could just step forward an' bow, but keep yer eyes on Beaky, and don' blink. Hippogriffs hate it when yeh blink."

Harry gulped and took a small step forward. The hippogriff snorted through its nostrils, and Harry jumped, but tentatively bowed down, careful to keep his eyes on the hippogriff's and trying desperately not to blink.

The hippogriff was eyeing him shrewdly, if a hippogriff could look shrewd at all. From behind him, Harry heard snickering. It sounded like Malfoy.

"Wow, I hope that great ugly chicken kills Potter before he manages to get any more of his friends killed."

Harry tensed, and the hippogriff moved it's gaze to Malfoy, before snorting again and stampeding towards the Malfoy heir, knocking Harry out of the way. Harry fell to the ground, miraculously unhurt, and looked up just in time to see the hippogriff dig its claws into Malfoy's shoulders and take into the air.

"HELP! GET THIS BEAST OFF OF ME!!!" Malfoy shrieked, wriggling desperately in the hippogriff's clutches and then screaming as his arms were cut open even more.

Still, Buckbeak kept flying, and the class watched as he became a small speck in the distance, and then they saw him stop flying forward when he got to be around the middle of the lake.

Malfoy was let go unceremoniously and splashed tremendously into the icy waters of the Great Lake, screeching the entire way down. The Gryffindors burst into laughter, and even most of the Slytherins let loose a few snickers.

Malfoy came up out of the water, doggy paddling from what they could tell.

"MY FATHER WILL HEAR ABOUT THIS!!!"

**oOoOo**

Harry wanted to arrive to their double period of Forgotten Arts early, so he pulled Blaise away from her mashed potatoes so they could go in search for the classroom. It took them nearly ten minutes to find it, and both of them arrived to class just in time to pick the best seats in the middle of the classroom and begin copying down the numerous notes already written on the blackboard.

They hardly even noticed when the bell rang and the rest of the class filed in, which didn't consist of more than ten students. They did notice, however, when the professor spoke and they each set down their quills.

"Class, welcome to the Forgotten Arts. I am Professor White, and the first class lecture concerns what exactly the Forgotten Arts are, and if you will all take out your books, parchment, and quills, you can start copying the notes off the board if you haven't already.

"The first question you may ask is what the Forgotten Arts are, exactly. To be blunt, they are forgotten arts. They are things wizards and witches today normally don't concern themselves with, and with good reason. Most modern wizards and witches simply don't have the power in their magical core to do the things the forgotten arts require you to do.

"The Forgotten Arts concern themselves with architecture and other forms of creation. The spells used in this class will allow you to make sculptures out of stone, wood, glass, jewels, and even porcelain and clay. Do not be deceived by your first lessons in this class—we are not making pottery. Hogwarts was created through the use of the Forgotten Arts, and so was the entirety of the Ministry of Magic building, including the golden sculpture that has long been the Ministry's pride and joy.

"The Forgotten Arts are usually used to create things, but they can also be used to destroy. A powerful wizard like Albus Dumbledore could use the forgotten arts to level this entire school, and probably create a huge black pit in the ground while doing it. And I'm not even going to go into some of the other horrible things one can do with it, because I don't want you trying it out."

At this point, the class was staring at their new professor with open mouths. Harry and Blaise shared a look and a common thought. _'I wonder if it can be used for dueling. . . ."_

"Now, if you could all pick your jaws off the ground, the first substance we will attempt to sculpt will be wood. If one sculpts wood, it can easily be coated with precious metals and stones to make it seem more valuable, and it is the easiest tool to learn with. By the end of the year, each of you will know how to sculpt wood, clay, and some precious stones. By the time you graduate, if you're still in this class, you should be able to build your own houses by warping stones and metals to your wishes.

"For this class, you will only need to learn one spell—_Sculptura_—but it will require quite a bit of concentration to cast correctly. For now, we will work on our technique and mental visualizations with these wooden blocks. Miss Granger, if you could pass one of these to each of the students, you can begin practicing. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask."

By the end of the class period, none of the students had had much success.

**oOoOo**

"I don't see why you like that class so much, Harry, it's bloody difficult!" Blaise ranted as the headed to the Great Hall for the third time that day, this time for supper.

"Yes, it's difficult, but it's a challenge! And I _will_ get that spell right!"

"What happened to you two this time?" asked Theo.

"Forgotten Arts," Harry and Blaise said.

"Oh . . . wait, you both took that class? I'd've thought only Harry would have. . . ." Theo pondered.

"Yeah, well, Potter here conned me into it."

"I did not con you into it. . . . Well, maybe a little bit. . . . But you're the one who agreed to it!"

"You blackmailed me!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did not!"

"Did too—Blaise!"

Blaise snickered. "I win."

Theo rolled his eyes, glancing toward the doors of the Great Hall and then to the sky for a way to change the subject. Then his eyes, widening, went back to the doors of the Great Hall. "Look, mates, Malfoy finally got out the Hospital Wing."

Harry and Blaise stopped arguing to stare at the Theo was pointing, and, sure enough, Malfoy was strutting into the Great Hall like he owned it, a white sling on his arm where the hippogriff's claws had pushed through the skin.

"Well, would'ya look at that. . . ."

"The ponce's arm still isn't healed!"

"Surely Madam Pomphrey could've fixed that in a heartbeat. . . ."

The unasked question was soon answered when Malfoy sat down near them at the Slytherin table and started complaining to Crap and Boil.

"Oh, I know, that savage caused so much damage that even Madam Pomphrey couldn't even fix it. My father will have that half-breed and his steeds out of here before the semester's out. Honestly, the nerve of Dumbledore to hire a half-giant, of all things. . . ."

Harry and Blaise looked at each other in shock. Half-giant?!?

Theo saw the surprise in their faces and said, "What, you two didn't know the guy had giant in him? Have you seen the size of Hagrid?"

"Actually, I didn't even know there were actually such things as giants. . . ." Blaise muttered.

Theo blinked. "There have been trolls, pixies, and basilisks at this school, but you did _not_ know there were _giants_? Honestly, what is happening to the world. . . ."


	4. Practical Use of a Time Turner

Author's Note: I'm so sorry I took so long to update. Real Life interfered.

I did have a few questions from **gilgamesh987** that I wanted to address. No, Sneak does not know that Grim isn't a real dog, and there is a good reason for that. Crookshanks _can_ tell the difference, but he is part-Kneazle, and apparently Kneazles are some pretty intelligent felines. Sneak is just your average garden snake, and there's really nothing special about him except for the fact that Harry can understand what he says. Although Sneak does know there's something fishy about Grim, which we'll start to see gradually. And about Blaise's parents . . . all will be revealed! Be patient!

This chapter is dedicated to **Jim Red Hawk**, who sent me the most awesome PM ever! Sorry for making you wait so long, Jim.

I recently received a review from someone who insisted that Blaise was, obviously, a boy in canon. Sorry, honey, this is _fanfiction_, and the series was started before people realized Blaise was a boy. Blaise will remain a girl in this story.

* * *

**The Orphan: Book III  
****Chapter Four: Practical Use of a Time-Turner  
****August 5, 2009**

* * *

"Zabini, get it through your thick skull—none of us want that mangy mutt running loose around the dormitory when we're sleeping. Last night, he ripped my _extremely expensive_ Griffin feather pillow. I don't even want to _look_ at him," Pansy sneered.

"Why?" Blaise retorted. "Because he reminds you too much of looking in the mirror? Oh, wait, I forgot, you look more like a pug."

Pansy glared intensely at Blaise, and Blaise heard quiet giggles coming from the beds of Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass. Bulstrode just grunted. Eugh.

"Just put the mutt in the bathroom, Zabini."

Blaise rolled her eyes, but, nonetheless, pulled Grim to the door where the third-year girls' lavatory was and pushed him inside. Just as she was closing the door, Grim whimpered and let out a bark.

"I know, Grim. I hate humans, too."

Blaise could've sworn she heard Grim snicker as she plopped down on her bed and fell into a restless sleep.

"_Take care of her for me, Cissa," Celaeno whispered to her sister, taking the baby from the bassinet and handing her to Narcissa. Blaise was still sound asleep._

"_I give you my word, Aen."_

_Narcissa turned to leave, and dumped a pinch of Floo powder in the fireplace, intent on leaving. The flames turned green, but just as Narcissa was about to step in, they turned a deep shade of purple, signifying that the fireplace had been blocked._

_Celaeno paled. "He knows."_

_A loud crash was heard downstairs, and then the horrifying sound of thudding footsteps as they moved up the stairs, closer and closer to Celaeno's wing of the house._

"_Hide, Narcissa, hide!"_

_Narcissa was pushed into the closet at the last minute, and the door opened just as Celaeno turned to face it. The open door revealed a tall, dark-haired man. His hair swept slightly past his shoulders in soft curls, and was pulled back by a ribbon. But what caught Blaise's attention the most was his intense blue eyes—just like hers._

_Her father._

_He had a tall, imposing figure, much taller than that of her petite mother, who was cowering in his presence. Even so, there was a determined set to her shoulders; this was a woman who wasn't about to give in._

_The man strode forward, his black robes billowing behind him, until he was standing directly in front of Celaeno._

"_Where is she?" he murmured in a voice like deep velvet. "Where is Blaise?"_

_Celaeno craned her neck to look directly into her husband's eyes. "So that's it, then? You'll kill your own daughter, just because your master told you to? You're not the same man I married, Nathan. What happened?"_

"_The Dark Lord showed me the wrong in my ways, and if he wants Blaise dead, Blaise will die. You've heard the prophesy, you know what will happen if we allow that girl to live!"_

"_Yes, I have, and I know that there is no way in Hades I will allow you to kill your own daughter. I have hidden her where you will never find her, and I hope you rot in hell," Celaeno whispered directly into her husband's ear._

_Nathan let out a scream of rage, pushing Celaeno away from him and withdrawing his wand from his robes in the same instant._

"_Y-Y-You can't do this to me. . . . No! You bastard!"_

"Avada Kedavra_!"_

**oOoOo**

Blaise arrived to breakfast the next morning nearly ten minutes later than she normally arrived only to see Harry already sitting at the table, an empty seat beside him reserved just for her. Blaise sat down wearily, and was instantly aware of Harry's and Theo's eyes on her.

"What?" she snapped grouchily.

"Blaise. . . ." Harry began hesitantly.

"You look like shit," Theo finished.

Harry turned to glare at him, and opened his mouth to tell him off, but Blaise cut him off.

"It's okay, Harry. It's true."

And it _was_ true. Blaise's hair had been thrown into a messy ponytail, and her robes had wrinkles in them. There were dark circles under her eyes, and if she thought to notice, she would have seen that her tie was on backwards.

"Are you okay? What happened?" Harry asked quietly.

"I'm fine. Nothing happened to me. Just a few nightmares."

Harry could tell that Blaise wasn't up to her usual perky standards—it didn't take a genius to notice. Normally, nightmares didn't make Blaise so . . . haggard. Something was up.

Blaise spooned some porridge into a bowl, adding some sugar, a dab of milk, and a good pile of chopped strawberries before stirring it until it became a pink, lumpy paste. Blaise brought the spoon to her lips and moaned.

"So what's our first class?" Blaise was already feeling better; food usually did that.

"Divination," Harry said as he scooped scrambled eggs and bacon over one half of his toast before folding the toast in half so he could eat it as a sandwich. He took a bite, chewed, and swallowed before adding, "Here's your schedule. Snape gave it to me before sneering, 'Miss Zabini is never prompt for anything, not even her beloved breakfast.' Hmph."

"Thanks."

Ugh. Classes that day did not look good.

Divination with Professor Trelawney in the North Tower followed by Potions, and then after lunch they had a double period of Charms. Then Blaise noticed something sad.

"Oh, great, we don't have Defense until Friday! I was looking forward to seeing if Lupin was any good," she said with a frown.

Harry and Theo looked down at their own schedules.

"Damn," Harry cursed. "I was actually looking forward to Defense. . . ."

Theo frowned. "As was I."

Harry finished his breakfast toast sandwich and went to stand up. "I have to go. I left my books in the dungeons. See you guys in Divination!"

Harry practically ran from the Great Hall and sprinted to the dungeons. He hadn't been lying—he had left his books in the dungeons; his books for Arithmancy, that is. Running into his dormitory, he grabbed the book and hurried out of the Slytherin common room. He had ten minutes to be on the seventh floor for Arithmancy, and he was sure the professor would be very strict.

Just as Harry was turning onto the corridor where his schedule said the Arithmancy room was located, he bumped into a girl with bushy brown hair and a Gryffindor crest on her robes and smiled slightly while helping her up.

"Hi, Hermione."

"Hey, Harry."

"You're taking Arithmancy, too? Oh, wait, of course you are," said Harry, rolling his eyes slightly in a joking manner.

Hermione grinned, and then gave him a meaningful look. "Yes, I've got it right before Divination."

Ah, so this was going to be her first experience with the Time-Turner, as well.

"I'll go with you to Divination."

"Alright. Sit with me in Arithmancy?"

"Sure."

Harry and Hermione walked swiftly into the classroom with a minute to spare, and Professor Vector raised an eyebrow at their entrance. The two quickly found a seat near the middle of the classroom (all the front seats were taken), and Harry looked at the clock.

9:05.

They got out of class at 10:00. He and Hermione would have to hurry to find an empty classroom, turn the Time-Turner once, and they would have five minutes to get to Divination. It certainly sounded easy, but he doubted it would be.

Professor Vector rapped twice on the board with her wand, and pages and pages of notes appeared on the board as the door snapped shut and locked itself. She turned to look at the class.

"Every day, you will get here early to copy the notes from the board. We will spend the class in discussion about the notes and every day, you will have twenty problems to complete for homework. Now get to work."

Luckily, Harry had been prepared for many notes. He had spent two years at Hogwarts already, and although his fingers had steadily gotten used to using a quill, he had a back-up plan for all eventualities, including notes that had to be written quickly. Setting his Self-Inking quill onto the parchment of his notebook, he pointed his wand at it and incanted, "_Imitari scriptum_." The quill immediately began to copy the notes on the board, and was finished within minutes. The spell wasn't well-known, or at least not in the Hogwarts Library, so it wasn't often used.

Hermione turned and gave Harry a disapproving look from her seat beside him. Harry simply shrugged. Hermione looked at his notes, which were already halfway completed, and made a face before stealthily taking out her own wand and whispering, "_Imitari scriptum_," to her quill.

Harry grinned, and she blushed.

As the rest of the class was taking notes, Professor Vector began speaking, "Esoteric arithmancy, also called numerology, is the art and science of understanding the spiritual significance and orderly progression of all manifestation. Every word or name vibrates to a number and every number has its inner meaning. The letter and number code, when rightly understood and applied, brings us into a direct and close relationship with the underlying intelligence of the universe.

"Pythagoras, more commonly remembered for the Pythagorean theorem, was primarily a mystic and philosopher. He believed that "all things are numbers" and that numbers represent spiritual entities whose presence is felt in all existence.

"He discovered the mystical significance of numbers, noting that the numbers one through nine stand, macrocosmically, for universal principles. On the personal level, microcosmically, they stand for characteristics, abilities, and events. Pythagoras believed that everything in the universe was subject to predictable progressive cycles. His means of measuring these cycles were with the numbers one through nine, as every number over nine ultimately reduces to one of these digits. The number ten, for example, reduces when a person adds the numbers one and zero to equal one.

"Today, we will be talking about the properties of the numbers one through nine. The number one represents the male principle, the yang; keywords for one are original, independent, and dominant. Two is the duo; and represents the feminine principle of receptivity, the yin. Three combines the qualities of one and two. Four is stability, firmness and security; five is freedom, change and adventure. Six is conscientious and desires to bring harmony, truth, justice, and a sense of balance into its environment. The number seven seeks answers. Eight is power and responsibility. Nine is selflessness and compassion. The numbers are discussed in greater detail in your textbooks."

Professor Vector went on to explain, "All numbers correspond to a certain letter, one to 'A', two to 'B', and so on and so forth. The entire code is in your textbook and you need to learn it thoroughly. When you know the values, you can reduce any word to number vibration by substituting the letters for their numbers and adding them; if needed, the value can then be reduced.

"For homework, I have given you thirty words that you need to find the number vibration for."

Professor Vector passed out the worksheets and went back to stand at the front of the room. "Well? You are dismissed."

The students quietly packed up their things and exited the classroom. Harry and Hermione waited until the corridor was mostly empty, and then entered the unused room farthest from the classroom. Harry reached into his robes and pulled out the Time-Turner, and then turned to look at Hermione, who wasn't doing the same thing.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head in slight agitation. "There's no sense in both of us using a separate Time-Turner," she said, grabbing part of the chain around his neck and looping it around hers as well.

Harry shrugged. She had a point.

Taking a deep breath, he twisted the device once and it began to spin; it spun faster and faster until it was barely a blur, and then the world a blur, as well. He could see a few people coming in and out of the room, and then it stopped. Harry removed the chain from Hermione's neck and tucked the Time-Turner back into his robes before checking his watch.

9:00.

They had five minutes to make it to Divination.

Harry and Hermione sprinted down the corridor and down the stairs, each ducking behind a suit of armor when they saw themselves talking to each other as they walked to Arithmancy.

"That was odd," Hermione whispered. Harry couldn't help but to agree.

They walked down the corridor; this was where the Divination classroom was supposed to be, but the hall ended in a dead-end.

Finally, Harry looked up.

And spotted a trapdoor. Pulling the handle, the door fell down and a rope ladder fell down with it. Harry allowed Hermione to go first, and then Harry climbed into the classroom just in time to see that Blaise had saved him a seat while Hermione was already seated next to Weaselbee and Longbottom.

Harry sat down next to Blaise and Theo.

"Hey, Harry, where were you? We didn't think you would make it," Theo said.

"It took a while to make it up here from the dungeons, Theo," Harry said as Blaise looked at him curiously.

"You had another class 'before' this one, didn't you?"

"Arithmancy," he whispered. "It was interesting."

"Hmph, really?" Blaise murmured, raising an eyebrow at her best friend.

"Well, it was interesting for _me_."

Blaise raised an eyebrow at her friend, who squirmed uneasily. Harry groaned. "Okay, okay, fine. It was also a nightmare. The numbers made my head hurt, and I'm sure it's only going to get worse from here."

"That's what I thought."

Harry opened his mouth to retort but was interrupted by their professor, who still could not be seen but whose soft, misty voice could be heard from the shadows.

"Welcome," it said. "I am Professor Trelawney."

The woman stepped out from the cover of shadows, and Harry was immediately reminded of a large insect. She was very thin, and her large glasses seemed to magnify her eyes to several times their natural size. Chains and beads hung from her neck, and her arms and hands were encrusted with bangles and rings.

Professor Trelawney continued, "It is so nice to see you in the physical world at last. Sit, my children, sit."

They all climbed awkwardly into armchairs or sank onto poufs. Harry, Blaise, and Theo sat around the same round table.

"Welcome to Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that it you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you. Books can take you only so far in this field. . . ."

Harry and Blaise tuned out the rest of the professor's speech, and were only brought back to reality when she said loudly, pointing at Neville Longbottom, "You, boy, is your grandmother quite well?"

"I-I think so."

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you, dear."

Longbottom gulped.

Professor Trelawney continued placidly, "We will be covering the basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry. My dear," she shot suddenly at Blaise, "beware a red-haired man."

Blaise's eyes suspiciously went to Ronald Weasley, who was grinning at her with a hint of malice. Blaise sneered.

"Now, I want you all to divide into pairs. Collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink, drink only until the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer, wait for the last of the tea to drain away, then give your cup to your partner to read. You will interpret the patterns using pages five and six of _Unfogging the Future_. I shall move among you, helping and instructing. Oh, and dear"—she caught Longbottom by the arm as he made to stand up—"after you've broken your fist cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue patterned ones? I'm rather attached to the pink."

When Harry and Blaise had had their teacups filled, they went back to their table and tried to drink the scalding tea quickly. They swilled the dregs around as instructed, then drained the cups and swapped over.

"Right," Blaise said. "What can you see in mine?"

"A load of soggy brown stuff?"

"Broaden your minds, my dears, and allow your eyes to see past the mundane!" Professor Trelawney cried.

"Right, well, you've got a—a buoy?"

"What's that?"

Harry glanced at Blaise with a raised eyebrow. "It's a floating device." He continued with his explanation, "It apparently is a symbol of hope, and means you have good friends in all weathers. _Aw_."

Blaise's cheeks pinked.

"And then you've got a cobra, which is a warning of grave danger. Now that's a strange combination. You're in grave danger, but you have hope and good friends."

"You need your Inner Eye tested, if you ask me."

Harry snorted and shook his head. "What've I got?"

"Well, hmm . . . It looks kinda like an acorn, which means 'A windfall, unexpected gold.' Excellent, we can share! And, uh, this looks like an animal . . . maybe a hippo?"

Professor Trelawney whirled around as Harry chuckled.

"Let me see that, my dear," she said, sweeping over and snatching the cup from Blaise.

Professor Trelawney was staring into the teacup, rotating it counterclockwise.

"The falcon . . . my dear, you have a deadly enemy."

Blaise snorted and said, "Well, _duh_."

"The club . . . an attack. Dear, dear, this is not a happy cup. . . . The skull . . . danger in your path, my dear. . . ."

"Well, this just gets better and better," Harry mumbled sarcastically.

Professor turned the cup a final time, gasped, and then screamed.

"My dear, you have . . . the Grim."

"The what?"

"The Grim, my dear, the Grim! The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen—the worst omen—of _death_!"

The class was silent, and then Harry decided to add more drama. He gasped. "Oh, no! The horror!"

Blaise giggled, and Theo was gazing at him with his mouth slightly open.

"I think we will leave the lesson here for today," said Professor Trelawney. "Yes . . . please pack away your things. . . . Until we meet again. . . ."

Harry, Blaise, and Theo descended the ladder in silence and made their way to Potions quietly. Finally, Theo spoke.

"How could you react in such a way to being told you're going to die?" he asked Harry.

Harry turned to look at him, slightly surprised. "When you've faced death so many times, being told you're going to die by some barmy lady isn't exactly the most fear inducing experience."

"Right. . . ."

The three of them entered the classroom and took seats at the back on the Slytherin section of the room. This was their second lesson today with the Gryffindors, and the two Houses were still quite decidedly split between the left and right portions of the room.

Professor Snape strode into the room just as the bell rang, as usual.

"Today will be a theoretical lesson, luckily for some of you," the professor drawled, his gaze lingering on Neville Longbottom and Ronald Weasley. The two Gryffindors sighed in relief.

The rest of the class period was spent taking notes on the intricacies of brewing the Hair-Growing Solution, and in the middle of Snape speaking about how the belladonna leaves interacted with the goat's kidney, Harry and Blaise started playing hangman to pass the time.

Just as Harry had Blaise stumped over an eleven-letter word that was, insisted a certain part of your body (the word was "bellybutton"), Snape came by, snatched the parchment from their desk and said some derogatory words in a quiet tone the Gryffindors couldn't hear.

Blaise waited until Snape had walked back to the front of the classroom and restarted his lecture before tearing off another piece of parchment and scribbling a note on it before passing it to Harry.

_We need to prank Snape. Ideas?_

**oOoOo**

The prank Harry and Blaise were devising for Snape was still a work-in-progress on Friday of their first week back at Hogwarts. The day for the third year Slytherins' first Defense lesson had finally arrived, and as if that were not bad, it was the last lesson of the day. The third years had heard reluctant praise of Remus Lupin from Slytherins both older and younger and were eager to see for themselves just how good of a teacher Lupin was.

The day passed agonizingly slowly, with Harry slugging through Ancient Runes, Transfiguration, and Charms before lunch with the help of his Time-Turner. Their first lesson after lunch was History of Magic, which the Slytherins eagerly slept through with the help of carbohydrates running through their system. By the time Defense Against the Dark Arts started, the class was wide awake and attentive.

Professor Lupin was already in the classroom when the students arrived, and he waited for everyone to be seated before speaking.

"As you may already know, my name is Professor Lupin, and I am your new Defense instructor. Your previous instructors were decidedly . . . well, horrible, and I intend to rectify that. In the time before the Yuletide holidays this class will be covering Dark creatures, and the remaining part of the year will be spent learning how to conduct defense in a duel, offense if we have the time. Any questions?"

The class was silent.

Lupin smiled slightly. "Good. Today will be a practical lesson. Wands out and books away. Everyone come and stand around me."

The Slytherins did so with minimal fuss, and the Gryffindors with more chaos. When the students had done as they were told, Professor Lupin waved his wand, the desks and their bags cleared away and stacked against the wall.

"Today we will be studying Boggarts. Can anyone tell me what that is?"

Hermione put up her hand.

"It's a shape-shifter," she said. "It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

"Precisely," said Professor Lupin, who gestured behind him towards the large wardrobe. "I have taken the liberty of temporarily removing this wardrobe from the staffroom for this class. Inside is a boggart. Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces. Wardrobes, the gab beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks—I've even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice.

"The boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a boggart looks likes when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears.

"This means that we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?"

"There are so many of us that it won't know what form to take."

"Correct. It's always best to have company when facing a boggart, as it will become easily confused. Now, the charm that repels a boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a boggart is _laughter_. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing.

"We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please . . . _riddikulus_!"

"_Riddikulus_!" said the class together.

"This class is _ridiculous_," Draco Malfoy sneered, causing Pansy Parkinson to giggle and simper.

Professor Lupin appeared not to have heard him. "Good. Very good. But that was the easy part. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where I need a volunteer . . . Neville?" Professor Lupin beckoned Longbottom forward, and the shaking Gryffindor did so with visible hesitation.

"Right, Neville, first things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?"

Longbottom's lips moved, but no noise came out.

"Didn't catch that, Neville, sorry," said Professor Lupin cheerfully.

Longbottom looked around desperately, as if someone would come to his rescue, and then nervously whispered, "Professor Snape."

Nearly everyone laughed. Even Longbottom grinned. Professor Lupin looked thoughtful, and then leaned forward to whisper in Longbottom's ear.

Longbottom nodded slowly.

"If Neville is successful, the boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn. I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical. . . ."

The room went quiet. Harry frowned in thought . . . What scared him most?

His first thought was Lord Voldemort—a Voldemort returned to full strength. But before he started on the seemingly impossible task of trying to make Voldemort _funny_, his eyes flickered over to Blaise.

Her eyes were closed and glinting wildly around her eyelids as she thought. Her nose was scrunched, and made the small smattering of freckles on her nose look oddly cute. And Harry realized that, no matter how much Voldemort scared him, losing Blaise would hurt so much more.

And if trying to make Voldemort funny was a seemingly impossible task, how was he supposed to do that with facing an image of Blaise's dead body?

"Everyone ready?" asked Lupin.

Harry felt a lurch of fear. _He_ wasn't! But everyone else was nodding and Blaise had a fierce, determined look on her face and a death grip on her wand.

"Neville, we're going to back away. Let you have a clear field, all right? I'll call the next person forward. . . . Everyone back, now, so Neville can get a clear shot—"

"On the count of three, Neville," said Professor Lupin, who was pointing his own wand at the handle of the wardrobe. "One—two—three—_now_!"

A jet of sparks shot from the end of Professor Lupin's wand and hit the doorknob. The wardrobe burst open. Hook-nosed and menacing, Professor Snape stepped out, his eyes flashing at Neville.

Longbottom backed away, his wand up, mouthing wordlessly. Snape was bearing down upon him, reaching inside his robes.

"_R-r-riddikulus_!" squeaked Longbottom.

There was a noise like a whip crack. Snape stumbled, and suddenly he was wearing a light pink, professional ballerina's tutu with lace-up pointe ballet slippers and performing a pirouette to Swan Lake.

There was a roar of laughter; the boggart paused, confused, and Professor Lupin shouted, "Lavender Brown! Forward!"

Brown faced down a giant asp, and although she didn't know it, the snake was constantly hissing about how he found her blonde hair blinding and wished she would disappear. Parvati Patil faced down a faceless mummy, and Seamus Finnigan faced a banshee. Pansy ran screaming at the sight of her own deformed face, and Draco, oddly enough, feared the same thing as Weaselbee: a giant spider.

When Blaise was called forward, she strode forward confidently, but when the boggart changed with a _crack!_ and became a mangled, bloody, obviously dead version of Harry, it obviously wasn't what she expected to see.

Blaise, normally so composed, wasn't. She collapsed to the floor, crying and screaming and clawing at Professor Lupin, who came forward and took her away with orders to Neville to finish it off. Lupin deposited Blaise into Harry's arms, and the girl immediately clung to him like a lifeline. Harry rapidly felt his shoulder become wet with her tears, and he could feel the stares of his classmates as Blaise gripped him tightly.

"Shh, Blaise, it's okay," Harry whispered in her ear so that no one could hear him but her. "I'm here, I'm alive."

Blaise's sobs got quieter and she looked up at his face, as if not quite believing him.

Harry continued, "That was my worst fear, too."

"You dead?" questioned Blaise.

"_You_ dead."

"O-oh."

Professor Lupin cleared his throat, and Harry and Blaise straightened, Blaise wiped her cheeks free of tears.

"I'm fine," she said. "I just wasn't expecting—"

"I understand," Professor Lupin interrupted with a kind smile. "That is enough for today, I think. For homework, kindly read the chapter on boggarts and summarize it for me . . . to be handed in next lesson. That will be all."

The class exited the room in silence despite the riveting lesson.

**oOoOo**

In spite of the downtrodden atmosphere that afternoon before dinner, or perhaps because of it, Harry and Blaise decided to go ahead with their prank for Snape. One could even say that the class with Lupin had inspired them.

But when Snape walked in late for dinner, fuming, wearing a pink ballerina's tutu, lace-up pointe slippers, and doing the occasional twirl (surprisingly gracefully) their forks clattered to the table and their jaws dropped while the rest of the school burst into raucous laughter.

Someone had stolen their idea!

Blaise spluttered. "They—They . . . _grr_!" The girl stomped her foot on the floor and pouted.

Harry, however, was much more coherent. "Their pranking style is so much like ours. . . ."

The two exchanged a look, frowning. Both were thinking: Is there a copycat?

Although Snape had already been pranked, Harry and Blaise decided to go through with their planned prank anyway; after most people had already gone to bed, with the Invisibility Cloak in hand, they stalked silently out of the Slytherin dormitory and down to the part of the dungeons where Snape's office and connecting rooms were.

The office door opened without hassle, and the two made their way to the back of the room, where an almost hidden door led to Snape's private quarters. This door also opened easily. The man was obviously not expecting any form of attack within Hogwarts. Hmph. Idiot.

Harry and Blaise tiptoed their way towards Snape's bed, a large queen-sized four-poster bed with the curtains open. Snape was sleeping on his back with his hands at his sides; even in sleep he had a deep frown marring his face and looked as if he could take points at any given moment.

In their haste to reach their unfortunate victim, both hurried forward at a slightly quicker pace. Blaise never noticed the standing cauldron bubbling with liquid on a table to her right, and the tip of her elbow caught the cauldron and caused the solution inside to roll forward and onto the floor, splattering and fizzing as the acidic draught ate away at the stone floors of Snape's bedroom. Snape had woken in an instant, and already had his wand out, pointing it in various directions around the room.

Harry had frozen in panic until Blaise leaned in close and whispered hastily, "_Time-Turner!_"

Harry wasted no time in pulling out the delicate hourglass and wrapping the chain around both of their necks; Blaise took a tight hold of the invisibility cloak, and Harry, in his haste, twisted the hourglass far more times than necessary.

The world moved in backwards motion around the two young Slytherins hidden under the Cloak, and when the world stopped moving there was the sound of running water coming from another door that must have led to the loo.

"What time is it?" Blaise hissed.

Harry looked at his watch; there was no longer any need to squint in dark surroundings as the room was flooded with light from several torches.

"Nearly time for dinner," Harry said, and then he paused. _Nearly time for dinner. . . Snape hasn't been pranked yet, and we're in his private quarters. . . ._

"Blaise!"—Blaise jumped slightly at the excitement in Harry's voice—"It's before dinner! Snape hasn't been pranked yet. We were the ones who pranked him at dinner!"

Comprehension dawned in Blaise's eyes and her sapphire irises began glittering as a plan formed. "You stand watch at the bathroom door under the cloak and come get me when he gets out. I'll cast the spells." Blaise was already moving to get out from under the cloak.

Harry groaned. "Why do _I_ get look-out duty?"

"Because you're the bloke," she shot back.

That was true.

Harry grumbled to himself as Blaise got out from under the cloak and made her way to the doorway to cast the necessary spells. A few simple transfiguration spells, a spell to make sure the effects only lasted on Snape—she didn't want to curse herself or Harry if they had to walk through the doorway again before the prank took effect—and a charm to make sure the prank lasted for, eh, a couple hours.

Finished, she peeked her head into the door and where she suspected Harry to be. "Harry?"

Harry's disembodied voice floated from somewhere around the bathroom door. "What?"

"Check on Snape."

"_What?_"

"Just do it!"

"Why?" Harry whined.

"Because you're the bloke!"

That was true. Again.

Harry carefully opened the door and released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding when it cracked noiselessly open. He peeked inside.

And shuddered.

Snape hadn't bothered to close the shower curtain, apparently he had unparalleled privacy. Harry's eyes widened in horror.

_So much_ sallow skin.

So much _grease_.

Harry squeaked and ran toward Blaise who was standing in the doorway motionless, unaware of the monster inside the bathroom. He grabbed his friend and pulled her out of Snape's rooms, out of his office, and finally into the corridor.

Blaise looked at her friend in confusion as he tried to claw his eyes out.

"What is it, Harry? What's wrong?"

"The grease . . . so much _grease_. . . ."

* * *

Author's Note: And that's it for this chapter! Most of Vector's speech is taken from the introduction in the book _Numerology and the Divine Triangle_ written by Faith Javane and Dusty Bunker. It's a great book if you're interested in just what Arithmancy _is_, and perfect to use for practical application. The Divination class and part of the Defense class were, for the most part, taken from _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_.

Special thanks to **Curse of Immortality** for his awesome beta work. He hasn't read over the revised chapter, but I was anxious to post since it has been quite a while.

If anyone has prank ideas, feel free to send some.

And review, por favor?


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